Who: Daniel & Simms When: around 11 a.m. Where: the security floor
Daniel's clothes still smelled faintly of sweat and spilled liquor when he staggered from Theo's room. He had showered, at least, his black hair still dripping water down onto his grey tee shirt. His fingers toyed with the silvery ring hanging around his neck, zipping it back and forth along its chain in a rhythm only he could hear. He started down the stairs with a spring in his step that only jarred his still-spinning head. He pressed the palm of his left hand to his temple, still clinging to the ring like a talisman in his right, and continued down the stairs at a far more reasonable pace.
The kitchen was entirely too bright. The midmorning sun blazed in through the kitchen windows, reflected by the thick snowdrifts that stopped just short of the tops of the windows. Daniel swore under his breath, for once wishing the snow had been higher to black out the windows entirely. He squinted as he fumbled his way to the refrigerator. His hands left their preoccupation long enough to find a bottle of water and something that looked like a danish or perhaps an old doughnut. Feeling decidedly not picky, he stuffed the pastry into his mouth and wandered off, wrenching the cap from the water bottle and tossing it to a countertop as a he passed.
He finished the pastry as he entered the security floor. He had not been formally invited, but for Daniel -- particularly in his current state -- his brief conversation with Jack had been invitation enough. There was no time like the present, and no sense in asking for what he could take initiative for on his own. With some idle, aimless wandering in the lower level, he found himself in what appeared to be a cell block, facing a decidedly unpleasant-looking man. Daniel smiled through his splitting headache, washing down the last of his breakfast with a long sip of water.
"You must be this 'Simms' I keep hearing about."
Simms had had an interesting morning, along with the rest of experiment B. He’d spent a decent chunk of it in their new batcave, mostly just laying in one of the comfy chairs in the viewing room, going through pieces of the daily footage that he had missed, grateful for something other than the old cot to sit on. He stayed there until his implant vibrated, giving him his own little signal that someone was on the elevator. He’d gotten pretty good at making it back to his cell in two minutes from the house, but the secret lair was something new, and so he’d run, and fallen into a few push-ups to cover up for his quickened breathing upon his return.
He stood as someone entered the floor, and he watched the newcomer with narrowed eyes. He knew the guy from the feeds as Daniel, but knew very little about him, other than he didn’t think the guy would end up being ExB material. That was fine, though. The new guy was an opportunity. Simms had knock-out gas promised to him, and it only took convincing one more person that he wasn’t comfortable with what he had done. The new people were all great targets.
“I’m Simms, yeah,” he said, stepping up to the bars of his cell. “Don’t know what you’ve heard. Or who you are. I guess they’ve put some new unlucky bastards in the house since they shoved me down here in the dark, huh?” He laughed, but it was humorless. “Probably good you’ve heard of me, or I’d end up forgotten down here.”
"From what I've heard, most people would prob'ly think 'forgotten' is a light sentence for you." He stopped a pace away from the cell, just out of arm's reach, should it come to that. It was a precaution against himself as much as against the prisoner; to lash out at him would not be the first bad decision Daniel had made in the short time since his abduction, but depending on how his housemates took it, it may well be his last.
"But I don't think they're forgetting you. They've got guard duty, right? Which I'm askin' to be on. So if all goes well we'll be seeing each other more often." He gave the caged man a playful little wave. "I'm Daniel."
Simms stayed quiet for a moment. He wasn't surprised that people thought that, but it wasn't hard to act like he found that punishment upsetting. If it weren't for his special privileges, he imagined that he'd be halfway to crazy by now.
“Kind of harsh,” he finally grumbled. “Not saying I was right, doin what I did, but in a real court, with a real sentence, I wouldn't have to worry about that door closing and never opening again. Not really looking forward to starving to death down here. Right, Daniel?”
Daniel rolled his eyes. "Nobody's gonna starve you. Jesus. Melodramatic." He took another long sip of his water. His brain still felt as though it was trying to dig its way out of his skull via his eyes; he reminded himself to hunt for ibuprofen the instant he returned upstairs. "You don't look like you've missed many meals anyway, big guy. You're probably eating better than any of the rapists you turned in when you still had a badge. And got your own private cell, too."
“Hey. New guy. I didn't rape anyone,” Simms snapped, “and contrary to what everyone thinks, I wasn't going to rape anyone. I assaulted the poor girl, and that was wrong, but it was a really dumb power trip that happened because I'm not used to not being in charge, and this place takes power the fuck away from you. It wasn't a good thing that I did, but everyone needs to start calling it what it is.”
He breathed in through his nose, then sighed. “So, they tell you I'm a monster?”
"I think the phrase was 'asshole cop,' which is redundant, but that plus the other stuff you did… yeah, I guess they kinda did." Daniel tipped his head toward the prisoners' prisoner. "I gotta say, I don't feel like I can put a lot of stock in your version of events if a whole house full of people thought you belonged down here. But hey, I got time, and I'm sure all this--" He gestured to the cell with the bottle of water, letting its contents slosh about. "--Is more complicated than it looks. So I'll listen. Tell me the difference between 'a dumb power trip' and 'attempted rape'."
Despite everything, Simms laughed. “Asshole Cop I can live with. Alright, look.” He pulled his computer chair over to the cell door, facing Daniel. He took a deep breath, and tried to look sincere as he started to explain. “The difference is that I wasn’t going to rape her. I wanted to scare her, don’t get me wrong. I wanted her to know that I could, but this was days after being uprooted from my life, and my son, and being villainized for being the only one to show up here and thinking I’ve been kidnapped, it’s time to fight my way out of here. I woke up a few days later in a room of people and was told that I needed to fight them or I’d be punished. I made a bad choice, and I know that now, but at the time I was only thinking that I needed to feel like I was in control, even if it meant taking control away from someone else. Yeah, I know, it’s dumb.”
"Oh it's beyond dumb," Daniel said. His smile was gone; all trace of humor or even openness had fled from his face. "You wanted her to know you could rape her, but chose not to? How fuckin' magnanimous." A sneer curled his lips. "I'm not usually one for cages like this, but you trying to justify that, and even pullin' your son into it? That's fucked up, man."
Simms’ lips drew thin. He had hoped that convincing this guy that he felt bad would be easier, like it had been with the priest. But Jim already was geared towards forgiveness before he stepped foot in the cell. This asshole he knew nothing about, and hadn't cared that much about watching him on the feeds. “You think it's fucked up that I'm upset that I don't know if I'll ever see my son again?” He asked, his voice low. “And that I might be upset about that, and maybe a little irrational?” He nodded his chin at his visitor. “And what kind of saint are you?”
"None at all," Daniel said. "But I damn sure wouldn't use missing my kid to justify hurting somebody for no goddamn reason. Is that how you'd want him to act? Out there worried he's not gonna see you again?" He gestured dismissively toward the cell. "Father of the year over here. Role model and public servant." He scoffed. "But forget it. Whatever. What's your plan to make anyone here believe you can come back into the community? This house? That you aren't still an irrational, unrepentant threat?"
“You don’t know jack shit about my parenting, so you shut your fucking mouth,” Simms snapped before he could help himself. He was suddenly out of his chair, standing close to the bars, as tall and big as he could be. “I’m guessing that you don’t have any kids, because if you were told that you probably weren’t going to see them again? Yeah, you fucking would.”
But he stopped then, blinking, as if surprised by his own actions. And he was, but only by how quickly he had responded. If he were able to break through the bars and use Daniel as a punching bag, he probably would have. He just hoped it didn’t show. “Don’t know,” he finally said, trying to calm himself as he returned to his chair. “Don’t know that I’m not. Just want people to know that I know that I was wrong, and I regret it.”
"Yeah." Daniel's brow had not lowered from its sharply pointed arch. He moved a single step closer to the bars, cautious but curious, as though approaching a cornered, feral animal. "Little hint, though? Temper tantrums like that one probably aren't the best way to get that across. I've seen remorse and I've seen lifelong recidivists." He pointed the now empty bottle toward Simms. "Guess which one you look like right now."
“And a hint to you? I get to see the sun once every couple’a days on the way to and from the shower, and that's the only time outta this box I get, so maybe don't be so condescending to the guy with pent up anger and nothing to do with it, yeah?” Simms smiled, but there was nothing pleasant or kind to the expression. He was about ready to give up this little talk, if not for the mention of lifelong recidivists, which wasn't a word that often popped up in casual conversation. He tilted his head and studied Daniel for a moment. “What's your story?” he asked.
Daniel laughed. "After that extremely unsubtle threat? I was born at night, Simms, but it wasn't last night." He chuckled, pulling a hand through his sex- and sleep-tousled black hair. "All I'll say is I've known meatheads like you, and like the people you've sent up the river, all my life. If I thought for a minute you were really sorry for all that shit, believe me, you'd never find a stronger advocate. As it is... " He shrugged.
That was it for Simms. The confirmation that his efforts would be pointless was appropriately enough for Simms to decide that he didn’t want to play nice with the new kid anymore. He leaned forward, smiling again, but this time the expression was sharp, and mean. “So what the fuck are you doing here, Chinaman?” he asked. “You don’t need to be here. Get the fuck out.”
"What the fuck," Daniel snapped. He threw the empty bottle at the cell; it bounced impotently off the bars and clattered to the floor, rolling away. "First off, what fuckin' year is it, grandpa? Did they time warp you straight here from the fifties? Jesus Christ. And second, I'll be damned if the self-appointed Imperial Wizard of Hell House is gonna tell me when I'm dismissed."
A laugh erupted from Simms, and he sat back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. “I’m sorry, was I supposed to keep trying to be nice when you already have no use for me? I thought that was your go-ahead to be that monster everyone wants me to be.” He winked, then scratched at the stubble on his chin. “So not Chinaman. What’s the other one? Chink? That it? I don’t know anything about you, so I’m trying to figure out what the thing is that’ll make you leave. Is it faggot? That one’s a big one ‘round here.”
"All right, Andrew Dice Clay. I get it. You're fuckin' edgy as hell." Daniel snorted, open disdain written in every line of his posture. It did nothing to dull the heat that had risen to his cheeks. "You flip the switch so quick I gotta think you like being the monster. You're just mad I saw through your shit. Not my fault you're a bad actor."
Simms smirked. He kicked his feet up and rested them on the bars in front of him, then pointed a finger at the empty cell next to him. “You are welcome to spend a week in the tiny box next door, with nowhere to go, and a trip up in handcuffs every other day to shower and then be walked right back down. It’s weird, but actual rapists and white supremacists have more freedom to walk around outdoors and socialize. But please, tell me again how I’m acting like it’s easy for me to have mood swings down here in near-solitary confinement. Try it. I bet you’ll be calm as a cucumber.”
"Mood swings," Daniel sneered. "Mood swings only bring out the real you. And I got a real good view of that. So I'll leave you to your self-pitying wankfest down here. I'll see you again when it's my official turn to rattle your cage."
“Sounds great, I’ll start working on my Shakespeare, what with all the acting I’m doing,” Simms replied as Daniel left, raising the middle finger on his good hand and smiling pleasantly.